The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-12-24
ARTLESS UNCLE ARTIS.
BY ED. R. PRITCHARD.

Old Irwin Township Artis, as he has been called ever since can re- member, is genuine specimen of the old time negro. He was slave until he had reached his majority, or there- abouts, when having been freed by the fortune of war he came north and set tied in Irwin township among thriv- ing community of his own people, and where he has since resided. He is now quite we'll l-to-de, being the owner of a nice eighty-acre farm, we'll stocked, and having besides snug little bal ance in the bank.
 But the old fellow is a character and no mistake. When he comes to town he always has reception at Alex. Dukes bake-shop, and the funny things that happen there some days would furnish good paragrapher with material enough to last him fortnight. Uncle Artis has, however, one hobby in which he takes special pride, and that is his knowledge of horse flesh. He is also something of 8 politician, and in view of his infiu- ence in his settlement, is member of the county central committee. If were so disposed I could, of course, tell to which party Uncle Artis be- longs, but that is a matter of minor importance. Suffice it to say that in local elections he has been sometimes known to work for the "other side," and generally carried his neighbOr- hood with him, too, when he did it. l l. h:O%1I oloA hot fhnoo flops of the old fellow were directly due to the fact thSt he loaned money and rarely let slip an opportunity to make an honest dollar. Is it any won- der, then, with his occupation as farmer, stock raiser, politician and horse trader, that he has thrived and prospered, and is known far and wide as the wealthiest man in his settle ment? But this is not telling my story. About month ago Uncle Ar tis loaned little dun mare which he owns to MT. Reynolds, the sheriff, to help him through siege of extra rid ing, occasioned by an unusual rush of business in the county court, which was then in session. At the same time, too, Uncle Artis was, and is yet for aught 1 know, the owner of a beauti- ful black Ally, for which he had long wanted match. Some of the "boys," though most of them were men past middle age, got up a plan to play a practical joke on the old fellow, just to show him there were some things about horse trading which, old as he was, he had not learned.
 So, having induced the sheriff to join in the scheme, they hired an ex- pert to dye the little dun mare beau titul glossy black, and as she was much the same size and build as the little black Ally, they surmised that Uncle Artis would be ready to either trade or purchase in order to get the match team he had so long wanted.
 Finally all was readiness and they only waited patiently for the old fell low to come to town, which he did one Saturday afternoon. As he sat in the bake-shop, regaling himself with a glass of cider and huge piece of Washington pie, in stepped Dave Stewart, one of the conspirators.
 "Hello, Uncle Artis," he began, "got anything to trade to-day?"
 "Co'se has," he replied as we'll as he could with a mouth full of pie. "Co'se has; yeh knows I'd git up in de night an bun de las' shut l got to git chance to swap horses"
 By this time two or three of the others, who were in the scheme, dropped" in, and among them was "Cap" Lumpshen, a farmer and trader who lived close to town and who had been selected as the man to sell or trade to Uncle Artis a match for his black Ally.
 "Well," continued Stewart, in reply to the old mans remark, ''I haven't anything to trade, but Cap here, pointing to Lumpshen, who had just taken a seat at an adjoining table, "has got plain dead match for that little black Ally of yourn: an he's the man you want to talk to-"
 "Say, Cap where you git dat crit ter? If she match mine I done gib you hummin' good trade"
 70. traded for her last week. re- piled the "Cap," land, come to think about it, my animal does match yours. How'll you trader"
 "Whar is she?" asked the old man, rising from the table as he spoke.
 "Right out here in the alley; let's go and look at her."
 The party thereupon adjourned to the alley in the rear of the bake-shop, where stood the once dun, but now beautiful black mare.
 Uncle Artis walked all about her